


A Dream Thing

by AidanChase



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Resurrection, after gansey's death, dream things, post raven king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4444292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidanChase/pseuds/AidanChase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It always took a moment for Ronan's body to catch up when he came back from dreaming. That moment of paralysis was probably the only reason he didn’t scream.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>He hadn’t meant to bring anything back. He hadn’t meant to dream something into existence. But… here it was.</i></p><p> </p><p><i>The moment he could move, he scrambled off of his bed and stared at the boy on his bed. Was it dead? Asleep? The boy's chest was moving, so he was breathing, at least. But Ronan couldn’t think the boy’s name. Because this wasn’t… this couldn’t be </i>Gansey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream Thing

It always took a moment for Ronan's body to catch up when he came back from dreaming. That moment of paralysis was probably the only reason he didn’t scream.

He hadn’t meant to bring anything back. He hadn’t meant to dream something into existence. But… here it was.

The moment he could move, he scrambled off of his bed and stared at the boy on his bed. Was it dead? Asleep? The boy's chest was heaving, so he was breathing. But Ronan couldn’t think the boy’s name. Because this wasn’t… this couldn’t be _Gansey._

Gansey was dead. Gansey had kissed Blue, and he’d died, and they’d been to his funeral and they’d struggled on for the last month as if they could survive without him.

And now Ronan had pulled Gansey out of Cabeswater. No, it wasn’t Gansey.

But it _was._ He breathed like Gansey. His skin was exactly like Gansey’s. He smelled like Gansey’s soap and mint leaves. And as the boy–-Gansey–-sat up, he reached for his ear, gently brushing it with his fingertips, and Ronan’s heart lurched. This was Gansey, back from the dead.

He needed to call Adam.

He grabbed his phone off the desk. No–-he couldn’t call Adam. Adam would be furious with him. So would Blue. They’d tell him to get rid of Gansey--but this was really Gansey. How did he tell them that?

“Ronan?” The boy’s voice was strangely hoarse, from disuse rather than overuse. But it was _Gansey’s._ “Did I fall asleep in here?”

Ronan’s heart pounded in his chest. “Sort of.”

“I feel like…” The boy, _Gansey,_ still fingered the edge of his ear. “Were we drinking?”

Maybe he should’ve been drinking. He only dreamed when he was sober. And this dream was the worst mistake he could’ve made. He should’ve brought back night horrors rather than this. Ronan thought of a million lies he could tell Gansey, but Ronan was not a liar. 

“You died.” His voice was shakier than he’d ever felt. The feeling in his gut was worse than when Declan had told him Matthew was a dream thing. Worse than when Gansey had kissed Blue. Worse than when Parrish had slammed the door in his face after the funeral. This was the worst thing he’d ever done.

But Gansey only looked pensive. His hand traveled from his ear to his thumb. That innocuous gesture that everyone seemed to noticed, except Gansey. “I died. Again? In your room? I don’t remember being here. I remember….”

Gansey’s–-the boy’s-–voice trailed off. Ronan had no idea what Gansey remembered. Ronan wouldn’t have known Gansey’s memories. Did he have to know Gansey’s memories for Gansey to have memories? Did he only have Ronan’s memories? What memories had his mother had, when his father pulled her from a dream?

“Did I die in Cabeswater?” Gansey’s voice was pensive, but unconcerned. And then, full of concern, “Is Blue alright?”

Ronan wondered what Gansey knew about their last venture into Cabeswater. Did he remember it from Ronan’s perspective? Did he have memories different from Ronan’s? Did he have Cabeswater’s memories? There were so many questions.

Before Ronan could think of any answers, there was a knock on the door.

Ronan looked at the time on the phone he still held onto like a lifeline, or a stress-ball. It was six am on a Saturday. Why on earth would anyone come knocking on the door of Monmouth now?

“Stay here,” Ronan said. “Don’t–don’t go anywhere.”

“Why?”

“Just–-Give me a minute to figure this out.”

Ronan closed the door to his bedroom and went to the door to the loft. It was Adam. Of course it was Adam.

“It’s fucking early, Parrish,” Ronan said, careful to make his voice tired and angry, rather than stressed and terrified.

Adam looked exhausted. Ronan wasn’t sure if Adam was working too hard or not working enough. “I wanted to catch you before church.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“Oh.” Adam adjusted the cuff of his sweater and seemed to swallow something the size of a cherry. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

Adam looked like Ronan had punched him in the stomach. “Please, Ronan,” Adam sounded as desperate as he’d sounded in Cabeswater. “I want to talk-–I want to apologize.”

Ronan couldn’t say no to that. He’d been waiting for Adam to be ready to talk, ready for Adam to grieve with him, but why did it have to be now?

“It’s not really a good time.”

“I’m sorry it’s early. And I know it isn’t Sunday. I just couldn’t sleep, and I thought maybe-–”

Ronan heard a door close. Adam must have heard it too, because he frowned.

“Is that… Noah?”

They hadn’t seen Noah since Gansey died. Whether that was Noah’s choice or not, none of them knew. And as easy as it would be to explain away the sound of a door closing as Noah, Ronan did not lie. Then, on top of that, he could not explain the following sound of a toilet flushing as Noah, because Noah didn’t have those functions.

“Is Blue here?”

Ronan shook his head. “Now isn’t a good time.”

But Adam had gone from pitifully desperate, to genuinely confused, to wholly frustrated. “What do you mean now isn’t a good time? Who’s here?”

“Is that Parrish?" Gansey said. "Why won’t you let him in?”

Ronan’s heart bottomed out in his stomach and he watched Adam’s face go pale.

Adam’s voice was an angry whisper. “Ronan, what did you do?”

“It was an accident," Ronan tried, but Adam didn't seem to be listening as he pushed his way into the loft.

Gansey had retrieved a bag of Doritos from the restroom-kitchen-shower and was looking through notes on his desk.

“Gansey,” the name felt foreign in Ronan’s mouth, but he didn’t know what else to say, “I told you to wait in my room.”

“I had to use the restroom. And I’m absolutely famished. What’s going on? Are you guys fighting again? I thought you were over that.” Gansey casually popped a chip in his mouth, as if he had no idea he’d been dead for a month and had only woken up this morning with the usual bedhead. He had put his glasses on, which meant Ronan had correctly dreamed in Gansey’s poor eyesight. What parts of this boy weren’t Gansey?

“You’ve been dead for a month,” Adam finally managed, “and you’re worried about us fighting?”

The length of his death seemed to shock Gansey. He at least looked concerned, and again, he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “That long? That’s…” He sat down in his desk chair with his stubborn frown. He set down the Doritos and reached for a mint leaf.

“Ronan and I need to talk outside,” Adam said, and quickly pulled Ronan out of the loft and downstairs to where Ronan hoped Gansey wouldn’t hear them.

Ronan spoke first. “I didn’t mean to, you have to believe me.”

“How long?” Adam’s voice shook.

“Maybe fifteen minutes.”

Adam took a deep breath. “You have to get rid of him.”

Ronan frowned. “I can’t do that.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Adam started up the stairs.

Ronan grabbed his wrist. “I can’t let you.”

“That isn’t Gansey,” Adam hissed. “What would Blue say? What would his parents say?”

“I’m not asking you to introduce him to his parents! He’s living and breathing and–-Adam, as far as I can tell, he is Gansey.”

“You’ve known him for fifteen minutes. Gansey is dead.”

“I don’t need you to remind me,” Ronan growled, “but whatever he is, you can’t just get rid of him.”

“He’s only a dream thing.”

“So’s my mother. So’s Matthew. So’s Chainsaw.”

Adam chewed on his lower lip and stared up the steps. Ronan did not let go of Adam’s wrist. He didn’t trust Adam at all.

“Does he know what he is?” Adam finally asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“He’ll figure it out if he hasn-–”

The upstairs door opened and Gansey looked down at them. “Ronan-–” his voice seemed strange, like he was unsure of how he was supposed to say Ronan’s name. And Ronan knew he'd already figured it out. Gansey was a detective, and he'd put together the whispers quicker than Adam and Ronan had put together a solution.

“I didn’t mean to,” Ronan said, and started up the stairs before Adam could. But did that make it better? “Gansey, I-–”

But Gansey–-the boy-–recoiled at the name, and all it did for Ronan was confirm how much like Gansey this boy really was, and maybe it truly was Gansey. He’d once wondered whether the mask he pulled off Adam in a dream would test positive for Adam’s blood in reality. He wondered if this Gansey would pass a Gansey-DNA test.

Adam reached for Gansey and Ronan tried to stop him. He didn’t know what Adam would do–Choke him? Throw him off the stairs? Break his neck?–-but he couldn’t let Adam do it.

Adam pushed his way past Ronan and grabbed Gansey’s hand. He made no moves to hurt Gansey, but Ronan kept a firm hand against Adam’s chest just to be safe.

“What do you remember about dying?” Adam asked quietly.

The boy–-Gansey-–hesitated with his answer. “Which time?”

“The second.” Because Adam and Ronan knew that Gansey had described that first death so clearly and vividly to all of them that Ronan could easily implant that memory into Gansey’s head. Any stories Gansey had shared, this Gansey could remember, because Gansey had always been a brilliant storyteller.

“I remember… It was raining gently, like a light spring shower. We were in Cabeswater. Glendower--It was March-–it’s no longer March, is it? I knew I had to die. I asked Blue, I told her I was ready. I wasn’t ready. I lied to her-–Oh my god, I lied to her and she must be so upset-–A month? A month and I–” Gansey sank down on the the steps and leaned his head against the railing. Adam still held his hand. “I can’t see her. She can’t know that I-–I exist.”

Ronan wasn’t sure if he was heartbroken or relieved. None of those descriptions could have been Ronan’s. This Gansey had his own memories.

“What did you get for your eleventh birthday?” Adam asked.

“A set of volumes on Welsh mythology. The one on the top of the bookshelf.”

Ronan frowned. “You got those for your twelfth birthday.”

Gansey shook his head. “My twelfth birthday I only asked for a one-way ticket to England.”

Again, heartbroken or relieved, Ronan didn’t know. But Adam looked relieved as he let go of Gansey’s hand.

“You’re a dream thing, but you’re not just Ronan’s. I could feel it in you, but I wasn’t truly sure until now. All dream things have a pulse like Cabeswater but you-–” Adam smiled, the first time Ronan had seen him smile since they’d stepped into Cabeswater a month ago. “You’re Gansey, a gift from Cabeswater, from the ley line. Like Noah is, but pulled through Ronan. You are Gansey.”

Ronan felt like he’d taken a sip of whiskey–dizzy and warm and with a strange burning in his throat. “You’re sure?”

Adam nodded.

Gansey let out a deep breath. “Okay. I guess being a gift from Cabeswater is better than being a dream thing, and better than being dead. But–-I’m not going to be the one to explain all this to Blue.”

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in the dregs of my tumblr. My friends and I have, since the original writing of this, revised our theory of how Gansey will be resurrected. This way is far too simple, but I wrote it out anyway. Critique is always appreciated.


End file.
